


The Spy

by babel



Series: Traitor and Spy [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cardassia, Cardassian Anatomy, F/M, M/M, Obsidian Order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babel/pseuds/babel
Summary: After the events of The Traitor, an agent of the Obsidian Order wakes up to find he's lost his memory after he was betrayed by his partner, Elim Garak.





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I first wrote The Traitor in 2006, and I've been thinking about writing a sequel since then. Here it is, finally. I'll be posting a new chapter every week until it's complete. This story doesn't stand alone, so please read The Traitor first.

"Lights. Half intensity."

Jadzia Dax frowned up at the ceiling over her bed as she had for the last three hours. She was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. There was a thought wriggling around in the back of her mind, chewing on the edges whenever she'd begun to drift off into a comfortable unconsciousness.

She'd already spoken to Sisko about it more than once. Kira, O'Brien, Councelor Farris, even Quark. They all thought it was grief. Most of them insinuated that she had stronger feelings for... _him_ than she was willing to admit. That this was some kind of regret for putting off his advances all those years.

Maybe some of that was true, but that wasn't all there was to this thing. Over three-hundred years, she had more than a little experience with regrets and grief and unwelcome feelings. But this was different.

She _knew_ Bashir wasn't dead.

Counselor Farris's voice in her mind: _You saw the evidence yourself. You ran every test. Isn't it time to accept what's happened?_

How could she explain to them that, despite the perfect empirical evidence, despite all tests she'd run that proved it beyond a doubt, her instincts told her that something was off.

_We'll find the guy,_ Sisko was fond of saying. _Whoever did it, we'll find him._

She sat up, sliding her legs off the side of the bed. Her fingers found the handle of a drawer, and then the little PADD inside of it. Bashir's journal from [med school. She remembered looking at these the last time he'd been proven dead, but wasn't. She remembered that Keiko had convinced them that it wasn't true.

Instinct.

_I know how you feel,_ Kira said, and her eyes carried so much sincerity that Dax felt guilty to be on the receiving end of it. Odo had been killed by the Cardassians after they and the Romulans had destroyed his home planet.

Odo was dead. Bashir wasn't.

If her mind could just catch up to her instinct, maybe they could find him before he _was_ dead.

* * *

He opened his eyes to darkness. The cold air stung, so he squeezed them shut again.

His entire body hurt. Not just the flesh, but all the way through to his bones. Like he'd been boiled alive or--

What _had_ happened? What was the last thing he remembered?

His heart thumped in his abdomen as he realized.

He remembered nothing. No events. No faces. No names.

Not even his own name.

He opened his mouth to speak, to call out for someone to help him. Tell him his damn name. He'd meant to scream, but his voice only rasped an incomprehensible syllable. Like he was trying to speak a language he didn't know.

He felt something touch his hand, and he cringed in pain. It was like fingernails raked against an open wound. Something cold touched his neck, and again pain crackled through him. But this time, it quickly receded.

A woman's voice: "Joval. Can you hear me?"

Joval. Was that his name?

"He's still groggy, but he's conscious." A man that time. "But you should avoid touching him. The new skin and scales are still growing."

"Joval, you're going to be okay," the woman said. Her voice was strange, but comforting. "You were betrayed by one of our agents during a mission, and you were hurt very badly. But you're strong, and you got through the worst part. Now it's just a matter of waiting."

He tried to open his eyes, but even with whatever drug he'd been given, the pain was too much.

"Just rest," she said. "Just rest."

Her instruction resounded through his mind, even as he drifted off to sleep. It was joined by voices he didn't recognizes speaking words he didn't understand. His dream self searched for a Universal Translator, but there wasn't one. A woman he didn't know smiled at him and spoke. Then a man patted his back hard and laughed his words out.

_I don't know what you're saying,_ he tried to say, but he didn't know his own voice.

"Joval..." He was shaken from his dreams by the woman's voice. The pain had lessened from last time, and when he tried to open his eyes, he could.

She was standing over him. Her face was as sweet as he'd imagined (perhaps remembered?) it, twin blue eyes shining brightly under delicate eyeridges. She smiled when he looked at her, and he realized that the shine in her eyes was from tears.

"Better," he rasps with some effort. He can't shake the feeling that he's saying the wrong word, but she seems to understand it. "I don't... remember."

"He set the bomb to go off early, so that you would be hit instead of the target. I told you he was jealous of you, that you have talent when he has only survived on his father's goodwill."

He began to shake his head, but his neck was still too sore to move. "No, I... I don't remember. Anything. I don't remember you or whoever set off the bomb or... I don't remember _me_."

Her smiled faltered, and she looked up. A man appeared over him--a doctor, from the looks of him. "I was afraid this might happen," he said, looking at one of the viewscreens above the biobed. "There was some brain damage, but I was hoping to restructure the--"

"What are you saying?" the woman snapped.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at Joval directly for the first time. "But the explosion did so much damage to your brain that I had to use some... unproven techniques to keep you alive. I can't tell you if the memory loss will be permanent or temporary, but we have to work under the assumption that it will be permanent. Do you understand?"

"Yes... No. I don't know. It's a bit..."

"Overwhelming, of course. You are quite lucky that your language center is still intact. I thought it might--"

"Lucky?" the woman spat. "How can you call him lucky when his friend, when someone he trusted did _this_ to him?"

"It was an unfortunate phrasing, but there is no need to become emotional, Korinas."

Joval looked up at the woman. "Korinas?"

She looked down at him, startled. "Yes. That's... That's my name."

"Are you... a friend?"

Korinas flinched in pain, and he thought for a moment that she might cry. She knelt down next to him, curling her hands around his.

"Joval. I'm your wife. We've been..." She glanced down, then back up with a new determination in her eyes. "We've been married for five years, but we've known each other since childhood. We are both agents in the Obsidian Order. And you were injured during one of your missions by another agent."

Joval swallowed, trying to absorb the information. "Who?"

She held his hand tight, sending a calming warmth through his body.

"His name is Garak."

* * *

The scene unfolded on the viewscreen like a fiction, like a melodrama. Korinas was as professional a liar as ever. Somehow, Garak had underestimated her.

Tain stood behind him, the self-satisfied smirk evident in his voice. "Now that he's complete, I think I see why you took interest in him. The neck is still a bit thin, though."

"I shouldn't have questioned your decision to give Korinas this job."

"Yes. She's very good, isn't she? I almost believe that she cares for him."

"I'm sure _he_ does," Garak said, immediately regretting the unmasked bitterness in his voice.

Tain chuckled and rested a hand on Garak's shoulder, but Garak turned away from the touch, away from the viewscreen. He wanted to hit the wall, but he let the anger sit inside of his heart until it burned itself out.

"It was necessary to make you his enemy. You will come to understand that as you came to understand Korinas was the right woman for this job."

"I already understand," Garak said evenly.

"You will also come to accept it."

"Perhaps." Garak looked at Tain, forcing his expression to remain blank. "I suppose that I will be sent away on a long-term mission until the doctor-- Until our new agent has settled in."

Tain smiled, a lean, cruel smile. "It is necessary. Until it is certain that he has retained no traces of memory from his former life. I hope that in that time, you will gain some objectivity."

"As do I," Garak said, not entirely sure that even he believed his own words.


	2. Disguises

Birek Joval flattened his palms against the cool, metallic surface of the table and drew a deep breath.

"I think," he said slowly. "That my employer will be very interested in your offer. But, there _is_ the matter of whether or not he will ever hear the offer."

The old man across from, a Dorifet Pivan, him dabbed a hankerchief under his sweaty eyeridges. "I-- I thought you were just the go-between."

"Yes, I am. And as such, I expect consideration." Joval eyed the young woman standing by the old man's side. "Half an hour should suffice."

Pivan looked as if his face could be burst with a pin prick. "Vatia? No! No, I won't have you touching my wife!"

"Baby," she cooed into his ear. "I know how important this contract is to you. I'd be willing to--"

"No! Certainly _not_. I don't care how important it is."

"You should listen to your woman," Joval sneered.

Pivan leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "You don't know what this young woman means to me. I will not have her touched by the likes of you. Your 'employer' will know of this insubordination."

"My employer will have nothing more to do with you if I recommend that he drop your account. Please, let's be reasonable. I only ask for half an hour with the young lady's... _hands_. Surely, that isn't too much to ask."

"I..." Pivan looked up at Vatia. She ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I have your word. Nothing more than that."

Joval arched an eyeridge. "On my honor, of course."

Pivan huffed a few breaths, then finally touched Vatia's arm and said, "Take him to the guest room. And bring him back here when you're... After half an hour."

"This way," Vatia said quietly, and she solomnly led him down a hall and into a small bedroom.

She carefully shut the door behind them, then turned sharply to face Joval. "This was bad timing."

"It can't be helped. Tain needs the information now."

She pressed her lips together to control her irritation and held out her hand, palm up. "I don't have everything he wanted."

"I'm sure that he'll appreciate anything you've gotten." Joval took the small scanner out of his pocket and ran it over her wrist. He waited until the light flashed, signifying that all of the data had been retrieved, then put it back away.

"Any idea when I'll be pulled back out?"

Joval shook his head. "Believe me, I sympathize with you. Vatia?"

She rolled her eyes. "He knew a girl named Vatia when he was a youth. Korinas suggested it. Thought it would attract him."

"Apparently it worked. I thought he was going to punch me for requesting the pleasure of your company."

"Since he married me, he's been possessive." She moved closer to Joval and ran a finger down the line of his neck ridge. "I haven't been with _anyone_ else in months. Can you imagine what that _vole_ is like in bed?"

He caught her hand and pulled it away from his neck. "I'd prefer not to."

"You were a lot more fun before the accident."

"Don't lie to me," he said, smirking. "I've seen and read enough about my past to know that I was never fun."

She frowned, her piercing gray eyes fixed on his. "Or perhaps you're really falling for Korinas at last."

"Perhaps," he said calmly, ignoring the stab of emotion. He couldn't allow her to know that she had hit her intended target. "But either way, I'd prefer to simply wait for the half hour to be over."

"Yes sir," she growled, and she sat heavily at the foot of the bed.

* * *

"Good work," Tain said, gesturing for Joval to sit. "This should be quite useful, if a little incomplete."

"I think that Pivan is keeping her... occupied."

Tain chuckled. "I can imagine. How _is_ Cilke?"

"Impatient. As always."

"I can hardly blame her in this particular instance." Tain leaned back in his chair. "You are getting better at covering your... weakness. For a moment, I forgot that you don't remember what Cilke was 'always' like, only the past few weeks."

"Thank you." Joval paused, weighing his options. "Perhaps I will be ready to participate in more complex operations soon. With agents who don't know about my condition."

"Perhaps. But for now, I want to ease you back into your work. An Obsidian Order agent cannot afford any mistakes, any weaknesses. Continue your research, and when I think it is appropriate, your readiness will be tested."

"Of course."

Tain smiled with a father's kindness that forced Joval's spirits to rise. "I know it's difficult for you to busy yourself with these simplistic tasks, current events being what they are, but it won't be long until you are one of our best agents once again."

"How is that going?" He shifted his weight in his chair. His bones still ached from all the surgery he'd had, but not as much as they used to. "If I may ask."

"The Federation likes to talk about peace, but they are nearly Klingon in their lust for war and nearly Ferengi in their lust for acquisition, no matter how many times they claim to have evolved beyond such matters. This conflict will not end with words."

Joval frowned, not sure what to think. In his mind, he loathed everything the Federation stood for, but still he felt an ambivalence somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

"You worry too much about war," Tain said, sitting up to pour a glass of kanar. "War can be manipulated to our advantage, like anything else."

"I know. I just... don't like the idea of loyal young Cardassians going out to die in space or on foreign soil, their bodies picked by scavengers."

Tain chuckled into his drink. "You are an idealist. What you need is an ideology." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "And perhaps some rest. You look tired."

Joval swallowed his shame down. He would have to get better at masking his feelings -- Tain was reminding him of that.

"Spend some time with your wife. That will cure you. Until you've run out your second chance to be newliweds, anyway."

Joval managed a thin smile. "You're right. As always."

Tain nodded, his eyes fixed on Joval as if he knew everything that Joval didn't. Joval half-believed that he _did_.

* * *

For Garak, being on Romulus was a bit like visiting an old friend.

Unfortunately, it was an old friend the way Dukat was an old friend, and even if they _could_ get along, he'd overstayed his welcome by at least a month.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to focus on the veiwscreen in front of him. The information was important -- at least the Tal Shiar considered it to be or they wouldn't have tried to keep it from him. He'd already sent an encoded copy to Tain, well-hidden within a much more mundane communication, but that was for extra security in case his message was found.

His eyes wandered to the stark, rectangular window near his desk. The Romulans had given him a reasonable view, and whatever their reason was for doing so, he appreciated it. The room itself was cramped, but the view made it seem less so. At least enough to keep his hands from sweating and his heart from pounding.

But Romulus was no Cardassia. It was not home. The climate cold, the architecture uninspired... The Romulans were not as unlike Vulcans as they seemed to believe. Even if they were now separate, neither of them could escape who they were.

The parallel to his own situation was not lost on him.

Except that Tain had twisted the parallel lines until they crossed. Dr. Bashir was dead. His body had simply been recycled into this... Joval. Garak could imagine how Tain was shaping his fiction of Joval into a form of reality. Wasn't that what he always wanted? Wasn't that what he hadn't quite achieved with his own son? There had already been other imprints on Garak by the time Tain had begun to shape him in earnest. Joval, on the other hand, was perfect. A blank slate.

A beep from his desk console startled him out of his thoughts. The words "incoming transmission" flashed over his work. He quickly hid the files he'd been looking at, in case the communication was an inexperienced attempt at hacking, and accepted.

He couldn't have expected the face that appeared before him.


	3. Identity

"You _what_?"

"Calm down, Benjamin."

"I'm not going to calm down," Sisko spat in a staccato rhythm, a sure sign that he was past reasoning. "I'm not sure what I'm more angry about: that you illegally accessed personal files, that you contacted _Garak_ when we're this close to war with the Cardassians, or that you're only telling me now because you want a ship!"

"It's not like I'm asking for the Defiant. A runabout would be just fine," Dax said with every ounce of her charm.

Sisko didn't seem at all amused.

"Come on, you know I had to do this. And you know I couldn't tell you before now, because then _you'd_ be in trouble with Starfleet. I didn't want to risk that if I was on a wild goose chase."

"I wouldn't have gotten in trouble, because I wouldn't have gone along with this." He huffed a sigh. "You decided that Dr. Bashir was genetically altered based on childhood test scores?"

"Well... not exactly. There was something bothering me about the DNA degradation."

"You said the evidence was indisputable."

Dax crossed her arms. "I said _nearly_ indisputable, actually. What was bothering me is that there were places where it was more degraded than others. Which is normal enough for someone vaporized by a Cardassian disruptor, but the patterns were slightly off." Sisko was beginning to look impatient for her to make a point, so she skipped ahead in the presentation she'd planned. "GE DNA doesn't degrade as quickly as normal DNA. The evidence was fabricated from a scan of Julian's DNA--which I believe was altered at some point in his youth-- which was sort of... transposed onto the DNA of whoever was actually vaporized in that lobby."

Sisko pinched the bridge of his nose, presumably to stave off one of his Captain's Migraines. "Tell me you didn't let Garak know any of this."

"I'm not stupid, Benjamin."

"That hasn't been decided _yet_."

"I contacted Garak," she said calmly, "because I can't get into Cardassian space without help."

"...Cardassian space."

"Yes. The DNA layering process is Cardassian. They used it a few times to fake the deaths of Bajoran leaders who were in hiding."

"Oh. So, of course, you contacted your good friend Garak because he's so trustworthy," Sisko said in a mock matter-of-fact tone.

"I had a feeling that Garak wouldn't be fond of the Romulans. I... kind of told him that I was working with Starfleet Intelligence to infiltrate the Tal Shiar."

Sisko stared at her.

"I only insinuated it. We were on a scrambled line, but he's on Romulus right now, so I had to be careful."

"Well." Sisko said, sitting down heavily at his desk. "At least you're being careful."

"Don't be sarcastic with _me_."

He shook his head, fingering his baseball thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what else to do, Old Man. Aside from giving you an official reprimand and sending you to the brig for six months."

"You don't have to worry about that." She plucked her comm badge off of her uniform and set it on his desk.

He looked at it, then up at her. "Have you thought this through?"

"I need to find out what happened to him. I need to help him if he's still alive. I don't think I can do that in this uniform." Dax smiled wanly. "I'm sorry, Benjamin."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Come back alive."

She nodded and paused for a moment before leaving, taking a good look at her old friend just in case it was the last time she'd have a chance.

* * *

Korinas was lounging on the eastern veranda of the villa where Tain had assigned them while Joval was recovering. Or, she seemed to be lounging, but Joval knew by now that she was never really relaxing, never really at ease unless she was asleep. And even then, she woke up at the slightest movement. As he neared her, he could tell that today was no exception -- she was reading an official PADD. The kind that Joval was not yet allowed access to. She sensed his presence and set the PADD aside, screen down. He sat on the ground next to her chair.

"I will miss this when we go back to the city."

She eyed him, confused, until he nodded toward the horizon. She looked out at the hills that stretched out until they touched the edge of the sun-bright ocean water. "I prefer an urban skyline."

"Perhaps I do too." He rested the side of his head on her chair next to her, not quite sure if he was permitted to touch her this early in the day. By tradition, he wouldn't be, but she rested her hand in his hair to let him know that she was in the mood to bend the rules of tradition. "But I like that the land seems serene here no matter what, whether or not it's tilled or cut or burnt. It reminds me of you and Tain."

"How poetic." He could hear a smile in her voice as her fingertip curved around the edge of his ear.

Joval sighed and cast his eyes down. "I don't mean to annoy you."

"You're not. I'm simply not used to you being so... romantic about such things."

"Tain says it's a sign that I'm allowing myself to be too vulnerable."

"Mm." Her fingers drifted down the ridge of his neck, sending a shiver through his body. "Tain sometimes expects too much. Especially out of you. Especially now."

He shook his head. "He's right."

"You always think he's right. You are doing very well, considering what you've lost."

"That's an excuse." He closed his eyes as she let her palm rest against his neck and began to rub away the tension there. "I have to move past excuses if I am going to be an effective agent again."

Korinas's movements were quick, as always, and she was on her side, then on top of him so suddenly that his heartbeat quickened in instinctual fear before it settled into arousal. 

"You," she said, speaking between bites on his neckridge. "Are playing the role of Tain's eidetic image. Yet, I know you are smart enough to think for yourself." 

Her teeth sank into where his ridge met his jaw and he winced. "Not-- not so hard," he whispered.

"I'm sorry." She kissed the mark she'd left. "I keep forgetting that you're healing. You look so... _good_ , now."

"I'm glad you think so," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"Trust me; You look better than you did the day we met. Lay back," she said, even as she pushed his shoulders.

He lay on the ground, watching her as she unfastened his clothing with frightening dexterity. "I'm glad one good thing came out of this."

Korinas looked up at him, something strange in her eyes, then she leaned down and pressed her forehead against his. He knew the meaning of the gesture -- an expression of familial love, usually between a mother and her child, but sometimes used between a married couple. In literature and poetry, it was always portrayed as a moving and meaningful gesture.

He knew what it _meant_ , but he didn't feel what the literary Cardassians felt. He had no memory of his mother's face close to his, comforting him. He had no memory of a time when he had to win the sort of affection Kornias now gave him.

He turned his face away from hers. It was an insult to her, another thing he knew but did not feel, and he whispered an apology.

"What's wrong?" Her voice had an impatient edge.

Slow calculated breaths, as Tain had taught him. Don't respond or react until you can control both your voice and your expression. 

"I'm... fine. But my hips are still sore from the surgery."

She glanced down to where she was resting on top of him and she smiled. "You are getting better with your lies, Joval. But believability is only a small part of an effective lie."

"Now _you're_ quoting Tain."

"Tell me why you're upset," she said, not allowing herself to be baited into changing the subject.

He wet his lips. "Self-pity." Objective observation of the self and others. Shame is an excuse. "I know what it is to be Cardassian intellectually, but I don't always... _feel_ Cardassian. I think I'm missing something more than memories."

After a silent moment, her stony expression softened, and she brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on his face. "Aren't those sessions with Dr. Levitek helping?"

"Yes, but only in pieces. I have the _sense_ that I was raised with strong ideals, with patriotism and tradition. But I know that when I feel a sense of pride when I see our symbol and our monuments it's because he inserted that image into my mind accompanied by a chemical to fool my brain into feeling the proper emotion. I'm afraid that it's not really what I believe. That I'm never going to be an agent again because I'm not a true patriot. That I won't be able to be a proper husband because I don't know how to truly _be_ one."

Korinas was looking at him so intently that he was sure she was angry, but when she spoke, her voice was gentle. "I have an idea. Close your eyes and relax."

"What--"

She pressed her fingers against his lips to quiet him. "Close your eyes. And relax."

He pushed away his uncertainties and did as she said.

"Don't think about what you should be feeling," she whispered. "Don't think at all. Just..." She slid her hand down his open trousers. "Feel."

She pushed a finger into his cloaca, carefully so that she didn't hurt the still tender flesh inside. At first, he forced his breath to remain steady, but...

_Don't think._

He let his thoughts slip away. He let himself gasp as she teased the underside of his cock and again when the tip of it grazed her palm as it pushed out of his body. Then, she was gone. Her finger. Her weight against him. He wanted to open his eyes to make sure that she hadn't left him there.

But he didn't. She had told him to close his eyes. She hadn't told him to open them.

After an agonizing stretch of seconds, her weight returned on top of him, and her hand around his cock. He moaned when he realized that her hand was there to guide him into her. Her body engulfed him--first the tip, another agonizing pause, then slowly, she moved down the shaft until their the ridges of their cloacae were pressed together.

She lay still on him, and he could feel himself swell inside of her, waiting for movement to allow for release. They had never done it this way before. She'd always been quicker--avoiding pregnancy, he knew though she never said it, because there were no fully effective contraceptives when the male was allowed to reach full potency before intercourse began.

_Don't think._

It was different. More completely different than he could have imagined from reading and looking at diagrams. The intensity of the pleasure was dizzying.

_Don't think._

He felt her weight shift on him, sending a shock of anticipation through him.

She pressed her forehead against his, and her hips moved.

Tears ran down his temples into his ears before he could stop them. The emotion... Not rational or anything he'd been taught. Real emotion. He reached up for her, first her waist, then down to pull her closwer.

When they were finished, Korinas returned to her chair to whatever was on her official PADD. Joval lay on the ground and watched her until the sun sank into the ocean.


	4. Alliance

This was, by any standards, the most foolish thing Garak had ever done.

The worst part was that he had little idea _why_ he was doing it, yet he was sitting in a small, cloaked Romulan vessel which was orbiting a moon well within Federation space waiting for her to arrive so that he could, what? Tell her the truth?

Certainly not that. But she wasn't really worth luring out here to kill. The Federation already knew the story behind Bashir's death was a lie. Of course they did. Cardassians lie. How many times had that been a topic of contention between himself and Bashir all that time ago?

The comm panel beeped and Garak found a Federation runabout had appeared on his viewscreen. He waited until it slid to a halt at the exact coordinates they'd agreed upon, then decloaked his vessel and calmly swiveled his chair around with disruptor in hand.

A shimmer of light solidified into what appeared to be a young Romulan woman in Trill clothing.

"You wouldn't shoot someone unarmed, would you?"

Garak smiled. "If you were truly Romulan, I wouldn't hesitate. Tell me, Lieutenant, did you expect me to believe your story? Starfleet sending _you_ to infiltrate the Tal Shiar?"

"Not really," she said with a shrug, apparently nonplussed by the weapon aimed at her. "I suspected you'd come anyway."

"Did you?"

"You were his friend."

Garak kept his expression blank, but his heart was beating hard. "If you mean Doctor Bashir, his murder had nothing to do with the Cardassian government. There are still some Cardassians who act solely in their own interests with little care for how politically delicate the situation between the Union and the Federation is."

Dax rolled her eyes. "Oh, you don't really expect me to take the official line after all of this."

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Then skip the pleasantries, Garak. What happened to Julian?"

"If only you hadn't asked." Garak raised his disruptor. "But we always knew someone at Starfleet would look too deep. We did not know that you would come to _us_ for disposal. It's quite convenient, really."

Dax watched him evenly, showing no signs of fear. "If you're going to kill me, there's no harm in answering my question first."

"Mm." Garak forced a thin smile. "I suppose you have a point, but I don't make it a habit to tell the truth unless absolutely necessary."

"Consider it a final request?"

"I don't make it a habit to fulfill final requests either, but Starfleet was so _generous_ to me during my time on Deep Space Nine that I suppose I can make an exception." He paused, considering his words. "Doctor Bashir... was not killed at that conference. He was taken to Cardassia."

Dax's eyebrow quirked, but she gave no other outward reaction.

"I take it you discovered that for yourself due to the DNA discrepancies. An oversight on the part of the scientist who prepared the evidence for Starfleet to find, but as the doctor's genetic enhancements were _supposed_ to be a secret, we had hoped it would not be a damning one."

"You were unlucky."

"Not as unlucky as the scientist was once the problem was discovered, I assure you." He watched her closely for a moment. "However, he would not have overlooked it, I'm sure, if he'd known that those enhancements were the primary reason the doctor was taken to Cardassia in the first place."

"Is he still there?"

"Yes."

"Is he alive?"

Garak raised his eyeridges. "Why would we kill someone so valuable?"

"You keep saying _we_."

Garak smiled with false modesty. "I am simply a part of a greater whole. Besides which, bringing the doctor to Cardassia was not my plan."

"But you were involved."

"Yes." Garak's throat felt dry.

"Where is he, Garak?"

"I told you."

Dax arched an eyebrow. "Cardassia is not exactly a small planet. I don't plan to go door-to-door asking if anyone's seen a tall, overly friendly human."

"No, I suppose that wouldn't be practical. But, of course, since you won't leave this ship alive, it hardly matters."

"If I believed that, I wouldn't be here."

"Oh?" Garak tilted his head. "And why don't you believe it? It seems quite believable to me."

"Because you aren't the sort of villain who talks their captives to death. Especially not when we're sitting in the middle of Federation space, Romulan cloaking device or no. You're just stalling to give yourself a reason not to kill me."

"Why, with logic like that, I'm not sure how to argue."

"Also, I can't believe you'd have me go through with this--" She gestured toward her pointed Romulan ears. "--just to kill me where I stand."

"It does seem extravagant, true, but I may have just been lulling you into a false sense of security."

"I contacted you, Garak. And I agreed to terms which put you in complete control of this situation. I think you'd make it a point to know me while you were on DS9 well enough to know that I'd go to entirely stupid lengths to save a friend. There was no reason to put me at ease."

"Again, your logic defies question." Easily, he slid his disruptor back into its holster. "There is a Tal Shiar uniform in the back. You should change into it immediately and destroy those." He nodded toward her current outfit.

Dax inclined her head in a mock bow and left him. When she was gone, Garak let out a sigh and leaned his head back against the headrest. As if of its own volition, his mind began to run through various scenarios on how to handle the mess he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

"How long have you been an agent in the Obsidian Order?"

"Sixteen years."

"How long have you been married to Agent Korinas?"

"Five years."

"Have you ever been to Bajor?"

"Yes."

"In what capacity?"

"I was assigned there by Tain several times during the occupation, to keep an eye on certain Guls who did not have the best interests of the Union at heart."

"Have you ever been to Earth?"

"No."

Joval could hear Dr. Levitek typing something on his PADD. This was, perhaps, his least favorite part of the sessions with Levitek. Most of the sessions were about filling Joval's empty mind with all the information he'd lost. But in the last few sessions, something had changed. He was hooked up to a machine that gauged his reactions--a gauge which he was not allowed to see--and asked questions about the life he didn't remember. A viewscreen was fixed in front of him, with images that flashed by too fast for him to consciously understand, while the gauge clicked and beeped.

"All right." Levitek swung the hated viewscreen around so that it faced Joval. "Just relax and watch the images. Your anxiety is skewing the results."

Joval frowned, not sure how he was meant to relax under such circumstances, but he tried the breathing techniques Korinas had taught him. Slow breaths tricked the heart into slowing. If he just didn't think about what was happening here, it wouldn't seem so terrifying.

Levitek nodded. "Yes, that's better. Now. Watch the screen."

Lights and colors flashed by with little bursts of noise accompanying them. Sometimes it all seemed to be a scene, but it was gone and ten more images had flickered by before he could even think about it. He could hear the machine buzzing, but he didn't think of what its readings meant for his future. Whatever happened, it would be in the best interests of Cardassia. That was all that mattered.

All the same, once it was over, he found himself eagerly watching Levitek afterward, searching for any sign of a reaction to the results.

"Right," Levitek muttered to himself, as he wrote in more notes on his PADD. Finally, he looked up at Joval. "You've completed the texts I gave you last time, I take it?" he asked in his annoyingly neutral tone.

"Yes."

"How long did it take?"

"Three hours."

Levitek's eyeridge twitched. "Three?"

"I recorded it in my log, if you don't believe me."

"Mm. Your reading ability is improving faster than expected. I will give you more this time."

"Do all Cardassians read so fast?" Joval asked. "I have watched my wife reading, and her eyes do not scan lines as quickly as mine."

Levitek eyed him with something that looked like contempt. "Considering the state you're in, it would be best not to develop overconfidence in your abilities."

Joval nodded, his heart sinking.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" Levitek said, as he made another note in his PADD.

After it was over and he was transported back to his villa, Joval's head ached as it always did with all the information Levitek's machines had poured into it. Yet, it felt as though he still knew very little. He knew the history of Cardassia, yes. He knew of science, art, literature. He could take apart anything from a Galor-class warship to a Cardassian body and put it back together again, probably in better condition than before. But he still knew nothing of the one thing that seemed to surround his entire life. He knew nothing of the Obsidian Order.

Joval sighed heavily as he sat in his study, reminding himself that Tain knew best, and Tain was overseeing this situation closely. He would know what he needed to know when he needed to know it, and not more and not before that. He snapped up the PADD that lie on his desk, now full of new texts from Levitek. The titles were those of literature, for the most part. He paused as he scrolled through the names.

The Neverending Sacrifice. That sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite remember--

The sound of chatter. Clattering. The scents of a hundred different kinds of food, most of them unfamiliar. And icy blue eyes burning with anger and pain.

He gasped for breath and rubbed at his temple until the disjointed memory subsided. Damn. He'd thought these flashes from before the accident had faded, but they were still the same as ever. Nothing substantial, nothing helpful. Nothing that even made sense. At first he'd thought they were a good sign, but Dr. Levitek had assured him that they were only an abstraction of the past. He had to let go of hoping to regain those old memories if he ever wanted to get better.

But something about those blue eyes... he'd seen them before.

He sighed and opened The Neverending Sacrifice on his PADD. He scrolled through the pages as if he were only skimming, but his mind absorbed the words easily. He was halfway through when a door chime interrupted him--though he didn't entirely mind the interruption from this particular novel. He glanced at the surveillance screen on his desk. A woman was standing at the main entrance of the villa, but she was wearing a scarf that hid her face and her hair from view.

Joval frowned. "Locate Korinas."

The screen turned black, and after a moment green letters appeared. Not available. She must have left. If the woman at his doorstep was dangerous, he would have to handle her on his own.

Joval suppressed a smile as he slid open a desk drawer and plucked out the disruptor. This was a chance to prove himself, yes, but he should not be happy about it. A smile should be all things _except_ happy, Tain liked to say.

The door chimed again as Joval hurried from his study to answer it. She was impatient, whoever she was. Joval paused when he finally reached the doors and slid his disruptor in his pocket, along with his hand holding it at the ready, as he pressed the lock release and watched them glide open.

The woman stood very still, holding her scarf so that only her eyes shown over it. But Joval recognized her immediately.

"Cilke," he said evenly. "What are you--"

"Shh! Not my name. Why did you have to say my name?" She pushed past him, just inside the door and huddled against the wall. 

Joval noticed the edge of a black bruise just barely peeking out near her right eye. He hit the door lock again, and waited for it to click into place before he pulled her scarf away from her face.

She cast her eyes down as he inspected her. The bruise covered nearly all of the right side of her face and her lip was split open. Another began just above the neckline of her dress, and another, this one clearly hand-shaped, encircled her bicep.

"You were discovered," he said.

Cilke shook her head. "Pivan still doesn't know I'm not Vatia."

Joval arched an eyeridge.

"His son." Cilke looked up at Joval pleadingly. He had to grit his teeth to avoid emotion for her pathetic state. "His son returned home the night after you were there. I... I made a mistake. I was just so tired of that beast Pivan. I thought his son might be more..." She swallowed thickly. "I didn't think he could be violent with his Vatia. You met him. You wouldn't think he could be violent, would you?"

"He's an arms-dealer," Joval said coldly.

"Yes, but. He was so much stronger than he... Please." She grasped Joval's hands and fell to her knees in supplication. "Please convince Tain to take me out of there. He likes you. Maybe he'd listen."

"You weren't supposed to leave. What if one of Pivan's men followed you here?"

"I made sure."

"You're in an emotional state. Emotions cause mistakes."

Her eyes burned up at him. "Don't preach to me. I'm an agent of the Obsidian Order." She released his hands and slumped onto the floor. "You don't know anything. How could you know _anything_ about this?"

"I did not say I was unsympathetic." Joval offered his hand to her, though he kept his expression steely. She looked at it as if it may bite, but slowly, she placed her hand in it and let him guide her back up to her feet. "Come, we'll discuss how we'll handle this situation in the atrium."

Once he'd settled Cilke on the more comfortable couch in the atrium, he saw to her wounds as well as he could with what equipment was on hand. It was a strangely exhilarating to watch the bruises fade, to see the relief in her eyes. However, he left whatever more... intimate injuries she had for a true doctor; he would not insult her by making it clear he'd noticed the gingerness in her step. He didn't want to scare her away.

"Joval," Cilke said quietly as he slid the medical equipment back in its drawer. "Do you think..."

She trailed off, and when he turned to look at her again, he found her staring at him with a darkness in her eyes that he couldn't define. Fear, anger, humiliation--that only seemed the very least of what was in that darkness.

"You know what they'll do to me. If they think I'm a traitor." She barely put a voice to her words.

Joval stood stiffly, unsure what to do with himself. "Tain can be demanding, but I think that under the circumstances, he may understand."

She laughed bitterly. "Even you must know better than that."

"Tain will do what is best for Cardassia."

"Of course." She touched her face where the bruise had been. "Perhaps Tain doesn't have to know."

Joval arched an eyeridge, but before he could bring himself to speak, she was on her feet and clutching at his tunic. "Please, Joval. I came to you because you are the only one who isn't... I thought you might have some mercy left. You don't remember living like this the way the others do. They'd turn me in out of spite, because they've had to suffer. But you. You're clean. You don't know."

"Cilke," he said, somehow keeping his voice even. "I cannot betray Tain. I owe him everything."

Again, she laughed. "Oh, poor Joval. Do you really believe that?"

He caught her wrists, wrenching her fingers from his tunic. Her wrists seemed very small in his hands. "You said before, Cilke. You are an agent in the Obsidian Order. You should know better than anyone that there are consequences for your actions."

"They'll kill me." Her voice was like ice, freezing his blood. "But by the time they finally do, killing me will be a mercy. Do you understand that?"

"I can't believe you'd be punished so harshly."

"You should. I've seen it happen to agents that left their posts. The amount of information we've lost because I left Pivan... Do you know how long it will be before we can insert someone else? Just forget about this and let me go back."

"He'll hurt you."

"That's nothing compared to what I'll face here."

Joval closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Korinas's breathing techniques. Slow, calculated breathes until the mind was slow and calculated. Finally, he opened his eyes again. "I can't let you go back. You may have been compromised when you left, and I cannot risk you being interrogated by his men. You know too much."

She began to argue, but he shook his head, silencing her.

"The only chance you have is running. I think I know someone who can help, though I can't make promises. I only know _of_ him, though he apparently owed me a favor before the accident."

Cilke's eye twitched, and she looked away. "I... suppose I don't have much of a choice."

"Stay here," he said, leading her back to the couch. "Get some rest if you can. It will be some time before I can set this up. And keep quiet. There is no telling when Kornias will be back."

She nodded numbly and curled up on the couch. He glanced at her one more time before he closed the parlor door, and locked her in and everyone else out.


End file.
